Without Saying a Word

by Amanda Ward

  Inside the room, on one expansive mahogany desk, piles of paper were strewn in varying sizes of heaps in a complete contradiction to the way the study had been decorated. The opposite desk—that Laura guessed was Lady Leighton’s—had a similar amount of papers but in a more orderly fashion. Rhean sat on the leather chair behind the desk and quoted ruefully,”One day my son, all this will be yours.”

  “When did he say that to you Rhean?” Laura inquired.

  “Last night when he rang to update me on what was happening and when they would be back home.” Rhean reached over to the mantel and pulled on a long cream-colored silken rope. “Can you help?”

  “With what?” Laura asked in bewilderment.

  “Organizing the Fayre and Ball,” he explained. “Look, I know it’s going to be hard work, but I think if we work together, we can pull it off.” There was hope in Rhean’s voice.

  “Okay, but we will need tea and lots of it if we are going to tackle it,” Laura announced looking at the papers on the desk. She had something to focus on, and take her mind off her problems. The Fayre and Ball were the major Kirkleigh events that brought the community together. The door to the study opened and Graham, the butler, walked in.

  “You rang Master Rhean?” he asked in a very formal voice, ready to carry out his master’s instructions. In his late fifties, the butler stood erect with his graying blond hair cut military short. Six feet tall in height, Graham was devoted to the family and kept Kirkleigh Grange running smoothly and with strict protocol. He always dressed formally in his butler’s uniform of black tails and a pristine white shirt.

  Rhean glared at him. “Cut the formal rubbish, Graham. Can you bring us some tea and lots of it please?” he asked, winking at Laura.

  Graham inclined his head. “Of course, sir,” he replied.

  “Would you also find out what the boys are up to please?” Laura requested.

  The butler nodded again.

  “Mrs. Stevens wishes to know if lunch is required.” Rhean and Laura looked at each other and started to chuckle.

  “Of course,” said Rhean. “Imagine not feeding hungry teens; you would have a riot on your hands.” He raised his eyebrows. .

  “Dinner too?” Rhean looked to Laura for confirmation.

  “I’d definitely say dinner too” she said with a forced smile as she stared at the pile of papers in front of her. “Rhean, are you sure your mother won’t mind me going through these?”

  “Not at all. I arranged with Mum’s secretary to get the papers ready,” he replied.

  The door closed with a click as Graham left the study.

  As Laura flicked though the papers, a sudden thought cropped up in her mind.

  “Rhean?”

  “Yes Laura?” he replied without looking up from the computer.

  “What made you decide to go into teaching rather than follow your father into law?” It was a question she had often wanted to ask him.

  Rhean looked over at her, and then leaned back in his chair.

  ″I thought you already knew.″

  Laura shook her head.

  ″I had a fantastic headmaster when I was at boarding school. He knew every student by name, and stamped out bullying. He encouraged us with achievable goals.” Rhean’s voice softened when he spoke of his mentor. “Dr. Colwell was firm but fair—the kind of man I’ve always wanted to be. Devoted to his wife and family, and also devoted to his pupils. He’s the reason I took up teaching. I wanted to make a difference.” Rhean smiled over at Laura. “Does that answer your question?”

  ″Perfectly,″ Laura replied and went back to her myriad of paperwork.

  The door to the study opened and Graham stalked in with a large tray. He placed it on a table in the middle of the room.

  “Masters Theo and James are playing computer games,” he informed them. “Lunch will be at one,” he announced, then bowed and left the room.

  “So much for informality,” Rhean said dryly. Laura giggled, got up and poured the tea. Both of them sipped their drinks from delicate china cups and saucers as they tackled the mound of papers in front of them.

  After an hour of plowing through reports of previous Fayres, Laura stretched her back in the high back leather chair and lifted her arms above her head. She glanced over at the sofa in front of the fire where Rhean sat tapping away on his laptop. The fire blazed and crackled. She moved away from the desk and walked around the study, trying to wake up a little. The room was large, with a central Adams fireplace, above which a large portrait of a gentleman in full court regalia hung. Around the fireplace itself, a fawn fabric sofa and two Queen Anne armchairs were positioned in a U shape and on the mantelpiece sat many informal family photographs. That the Countess put her stamp on the male domain was evident in the way that her desk— although mahogany in keeping with the dark color scheme—looked decidedly feminine. Both desktops were scattered with black and white photographs of the family. Laura picked up the photograph of the earl and stared at it trying to see Rhean in him. Both the earl and his son were similar in appearance. They shared the same high cheekbones and full lips. However, Rhean and his mother seemed to share the gypsy curls that tumbled over their foreheads carelessly, but Rhean’s curls caressed his forehead like a kiss.

  A kiss? Where had that come from? Laura wondered. Her gaze fell on him, relaxed on the sofa with the laptop on the coffee table. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, exposing thick, dark-haired muscular arms. Laura felt relaxed and comfortable with Rhean, even more so than when she had been with her ex-husband. Rhean exuded safety and confidence. When he kissed her last night, it brought out feelings Laura had never before experienced, even with Max. She thought she’d experienced love with Max, but the kiss last night completely shook her to the core. Laura’s arm went around her waist instinctively and her mind hurtled back to the day that her marriage died. She could still hear the hurtful expletives Max yelled at her, frustrated at being found out And the agony as first, he knocked her to the floor, then kicked her. Two of Laura’s ribs had broken, but he stopped only when James and Theo leaped on him, pushing him out of the way, as Maisie dragged her to safety. It was much too much for her to remember. Laura’s knees buckled and she would have collapsed had it not been for a strong pair of arms that held her up and led her to the sofa.

  Laura lay there with her eyes closed, trying hard to block the bad memories with good ones. Rhean’s face appeared above her. She thought of the way she’d felt when he took charge yesterday and looked after her, his strong masculine features clearly defined. And the way his lips felt on hers, his interaction with her children, and most of all that he’d needed no words to make her feel like a woman. When she opened her eyes, her hand was engulfed in his, his thumb making a circular pattern on her wrist, and his intense midnight-blue eyes fixed on her, full of concern and worry. She knew now that there was something very special about this man.

  “Laura what happened? Are you okay now?” Rhean whispered, but didn’t release her hand. Laura shook her head.

  “Rhean, I am really sorry. I guess I had an anxiety attack.” As Laura tried to explain, her voice trembled.

  “I think we should get you an appointment to see the doctor.” His voice was uncompromising, yet gentle, but Laura shook her head.

  “I’ll be fine Rhean, trust me. I just got a bit overwhelmed and felt...” her voice trailed off as she tried to find the words. “I think I’m out of my comfort zone,” she finally said and winced at the dreadful phrase.

  Rhean nodded, put his arm firmly around her waist, and helped her up from the sofa.

  “All right, Laura, if you’re sure you’ll be okay,” he told her. “However, another attack like that and I’ll take you down to the surgery myself, no hesitations. Deal?” Rhean used his best headmaster tone of voice, but it failed to impress her. She nodded, and allowed Rhean to take control for once.

  *****

  Rhean continued to hold Laura, and his grip on her hand tightened some
. He was reluctant to let her go even for a second. When he saw her collapse at his father’s desk, his first instinct was to ring the doctor after placing her on the sofa where she lay still. The look of agony and horror on her face had been evident. She’d obviously been reliving some dreadful event in her mind; whatever had happened in the past had obviously affected her deeply. The way she recoiled when his arm touched her underneath her ribcage intimated the abuse Theo told him about. Rhean felt a flash of rage at what she’d been through. But being angry wouldn’t help her. Instead, he swallowed his anger and concentrated on helping Laura calm down, and feel protected and safe.

  He heard his stomach growl. Laura looked at him. A hint of a smile lifted her soft lips.

  “I think its lunch time,” Rhean said, leaning his forehead on hers, offering her more comfort. Laura curled into him, as if trying to absorb some of his strength. Then her stomach joined in too. She blushed, the tops of her cheeks turning pink.

  “Yep,” Rhean said, as he stood up and held his hand out to hers. “Come on woman, let’s go and fill our bellies, as my mother would say.”

  ****

  Lunch was an informal affair. Mrs. Stevens made a hearty vegetable soup, sandwiches and piles of crisps in a buffet style. They all sat down in the garden room at the back of the house, and one of Laura’s favorites, talking about nothing in particular. Laura stared out the window, watching the leaves chase each other around, smiling to herself when one of the Countess’s many King Charles spaniels joined in the game, bouncing and frolicking around. Theo and James seemed to love the huge screen in the lounge for the many console games.

  “Speaking of the library...” Rhean spoke to Laura out of the blue.

  “Yes?” she answered him, still subdued. Laura was still on edge and her stomach was in knots after her earlier attack.

  “Mum came up with an idea. Why don’t you work here as a tour guide during the day?” he suggested.

  Laura’s face drained of color and she looked down.

  “What do you say? You know us and the house,” he urged “there is a good salary you know.” Rhean named an exorbitant sum, but Laura shook her head.

  “Not at the moment,” she said hesitantly. Laura looked at her soup, hoping the answer would be in the bowl, which of course it wasn’t.

  “I appreciate the offer Rhean. Please let me think about it for a few days.” Looking up, she saw Rhean’s hopeful smile fall. She felt guilty, and torn between keeping herself and her children safe, and not wanting to let Rhean down. Tamping down her emotions, she concentrated on her meal as the subject changed to the latest computer games the boys found.

  Later that afternoon, after Rhean and Laura ploughed through the ideas and suggestions for the fayre and ball, Rhean took Laura on a personal tour of the grange. He’d grown up there with his two older sisters and younger brother. It had been his grandparents’ idea to allow visitors entrance to the house and grounds. The money they raised helped with the upkeep of the house and any extra went back into the town. The grange was self-sufficient itself and from the use of local businesses. The grange was not only a formal home, it was also a family home. As children, Rhean and his siblings had the run of the house. Now all was quiet, and their footsteps echoed in the great hall. It was wood lined and portraits of his family’s ancestors hung on the walls. A red woolen rug ran down the middle of it, which gave an ambiance of elegance and warmth.

  “Does being the eldest son put more pressure on you to ensure the family line?” Laura asked. She felt drawn to one particular portrait over the large fireplace. It was of a couple in Regency court dress. A simple diamond tiara with pale green stones adorned the woman’s red/gold hair worn swept up at the back. Curls at the front framed her face. Her dress flowed from the empire waist line in pale green, with a slight shimmer to the fabric creating an iridescent effect. A lacework pendant, long drop earrings and a cluster ring with the same green and blue stones completed the set of jewelry. The man was dressed in the red velvet robes of state, a large gold chain of office around his shoulders. Although formal, the portrait was also intimate as the couple gazed at each other and held hands. Rhean walked over and looked up at the painting. He smiled.

  “Ah, you found my family secret.” Rhean nudged Laura’s arm in a playful manner.

  Laura was confused, yet intrigued at the same time.

  “What family secret?”

  “That Leightons marry for love and not fortune,” he confided in a stage whisper and chuckled. “Can’t you tell by the way they are looking at each other?” Rhean put his arm around her under her breasts and held her tight. “You have heard the story about how my parents met?”

  Laura shook her head.

  “My grandparents own a small bed and breakfast in Ireland. Dad was over there on business and, as he always said to us, it was love at first sight. It just so happened to be when Mum served his breakfast. He used all his Cumbrian charm to persuade her to join him and since that day, they’ve always breakfasted together. Of course, the Irish influenced our names too.” He smiled and pulled Laura closer into his embrace, and as he gazed deep into her hazel eyes, his face became all seriousness.

  “Laura, there is something I need to say, and for me to tell you this, well, it’s very difficult. But I need to be straight with you.”

  Laura shook her body, and stepped away from him with a frown on her face.

  “You are going to tell me you are gay,” she blurted out wildly, pre-empting his speech.

  “I had a feeling this was coming. How could you do this to me now? Well, this is going to make life incredibly awkward for us.” She wrung her hands in despair and humiliation.

  Rhean pulled her back into his arms, holding her tight despite her struggles

  “What on earth are you talking about? I’m not gay—far, far from it. Would I kiss you like this if I was interested in men?” His mouth crushed hers, claiming her as his own, branding her.

  So what is it you have to tell me then?” she asked, still reeling from the dominance of his kiss.

  “That I have never made love to anyone.” His voice was calm, his gaze steady as his cheeks flushed crimson.

  “Let me get this straight. You mean you have never had sex? That you are a...?” Laura’s voice trailed off and she was at a loss for words. It was rather a bizarre statement to have made—especially in the gallery with its echoing atmosphere. Anyone could have heard, and especially the staff.

  That he trusted her enough to tell her a very intimate secret was flattering, but Laura now regarded Rhean in a whole new light.

  “Not at all, and yes, I am a virgin; a 34-year-old virgin.”

  Laura opened her mouth, closing it again as she didn’t know what to say. A question popped into her mind, but this really was not the time or place to ask him. Instead, she turned to look at the painting again in an attempt to regain some measure of control.

  “There is a very good reason why, and I will tell you when the time is right, but the only person I will ever make love with will be my wife,” Rhean told her sincerely.

  He leaned down, brushing her cheek with his lips and whispered in her ear

  “So don’t keep me waiting too long then...”

  Laura looked incredulously at Rhean as if she couldn’t believe what he just said.

  Rhean winked at her as they turned to gaze at the portrait again,

  “I think we had better call the troops together and head off home before I scare you off even more.” He pressed a bell near the fireplace. “Did you know that Archie and Clarissa were married for over fifty years, had ten children and died within days of each other?”

  “Sad and yet romantic at the same time,” Laura agreed with a hint of wistfulness. “Fifty years was a long time in those days, as I recall,” she mused.

  “Indeed it was. Turns out us Leightons are blessed with long lives—especially when we have the person we love to spend it with.”

  Rhean’s speech was romantic and since
re. He seemed so much younger than her. Laura wondered if they could begin a relationship or if they were destined to be just friends.

  Yet again, Laura was taken aback by the intensity of his words.

  “Please don’t look so scared,” he pleaded. “I will try and take things slow so that you can get used to this, but I can’t help how I feel, Laura.” He hugged her, kissing the top of her head.”Please don’t be scared Laura,” he begged her again.

  Laura’s mind swirled with desires long since repressed and they flowed through her body making it sensitive to Rhean’s touch. She was aflame with desire for this man, yet it shamed her and confused her. Part of her was desperate to return their relationship back to the way it was, before their kiss. Well. Damn the man. Laura thought, gritting her teeth in frustration. Why did he have to be such a nice guy? Why oh why did things have to change?

  Lost in her own thoughts, as Rhean appeared to be lost in his, she turned when she heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. Graham stood at the door.

  “You rang, sir?” he inquired politely.

  “Yes I did. Graham, could you round up the children please? It’s getting late and I think we’d better get them home.”

  Graham inclined his head. “Of course, sir,” he replied and left, his shoes clicking on the wooden floor.

  As Rhean and Laura came into the large entrance hall, Mrs. Stevens hurried in, carrying a large insulated bag.

  “Here you go Master Rhean,” she said in a broad Cumbrian dialect.

  “I thought you might like to take dinner back with you. There’s lasagna, garlic bread and a salad.”

  “How thoughtful,” Laura said, and impulsively bent and kissed Mrs. Stevens cheek.

  The housekeeper blushed.

  “Bless you, I don’t like seeing good food go to waste,” Mrs. Stevens smiled at Laura and then bustled back to the kitchen.

  Laura thought for a minute. “Do you ever wonder if, when there is no one around, Graham slides around here in his socks, underpants, open shirt and sunglasses?”